


Raising Hel

by queenofthegoatsstuff



Category: Norse Religion & Lore, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Gen, Mythology - Freeform, movie-verse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-13
Updated: 2017-08-27
Packaged: 2018-12-14 21:26:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11791788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenofthegoatsstuff/pseuds/queenofthegoatsstuff
Summary: Reputations, kingdoms, and family ties are at stake, and Hel is thrust into the thick of it.Loki only wants a chance at the throne, but when an unexpected guest is dropped at his doorstep, he may lose that chance forever.Blending movie-verse with mythology storylines.Companion to "A Bit of Practice."





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story started off as just a writing exercise, but then it kind of exploded into its own thing. I hope you enjoy, and as always, let me know what you think! Title is WIP, let me know if you hate it.

Loki returned home from the practice arena a little sore, but not too badly hurt. He had managed to best his brother two out of five times, which was more than usual. It had amused Thor’s friends to no end, and in turn annoyed Thor just as much. Overall, it hadn’t been a terrible day.

He entered his quarters and with a wave of his hand, the lanterns set themselves alight. “Good evening, Prince Loki,” came a cold voice from behind him. A chill went down his spine. No, not her, not today. His muscles tensed. “What do you want, Angrboda?” he asked through gritted teeth. He turned around to face the woman in his sitting room. She had made herself at home on his couch.

“Now, now,” she said in her deep, sultry voice, “is that any way to greet an old friend?” Loki narrowed his eyes.  
“You and I are not friends,” he said bitterly.  
“A guest, then,” she said, “a guest with a gift.”  
He took a step back. “What are you playing at, Angrboda?” The last time they had been together, he and Angrboda had parted ways after he had refused to give her a magical artifact from the palace archives. They had had an ongoing affair, built more on lust than love, as well as a shared interest in magic. Several moons ago, she asked him for the Casket of Ancient Winters, and he had refused.

Unfortunately for Loki, he had chosen a lover as equally spiteful and petty as himself. She vowed to ruin him in one way or another. While he had been skeptical as to whether she would actually try anything, he always kept an eye out for strange ripples in the Seidr, or anything else out of the ordinary. If he were to be completely honest with himself, he never would have guessed she would turn up in his sitting room.

He tried to read the face of the woman sitting in front of him. She gazed at him as if he were some sort of insect she meant to crush with her shoe. Loki could only guess that her ‘gift’ was death, or some instrument of it. As his eyes flitted beside her, he noted a lump of blankets on the couch. He supposed this was meant to conceal some sort of artifact with which to kill him.

“Wouldn’t you like to open your gift?” she asked in mock playfulness. The blankets gave a stir and he drew his dagger, preparing to fend off whatever foul beast Angrboda meant to kill him with. “Tell me,” said Angrboda, “how many moons ago did you betray me?”  
Loki rolled his eyes. “I did not betray you, woman,” he spat, “you revealed yourself as a Jotun spy and I told my father.”

Angrboda gave a hum of pleasure. “And how did Odin react when he learned his son was sleeping with one of the foul creatures he sought to exterminate? Or were you too ashamed to tell him about that?”  
Loki clenched his jaw. It was true that he had avoided revealing his exact relationship with Angrboda.

“Oh, you didn’t tell him?” she cooed. “Too ashamed, eh?”  
“What are you playing at, Angrboda?” Loki asked again, temper rising.  
“When was our last coupling, prince?” she asked.  
“We’re getting off subject.”  
“When was it?”  
Loki sighed. “About ten moons ago,” he replied.

“Very good,” she cooed, “oh, you must have liked it to get that close.”  
“Don’t make me kill you,” growled Loki.  
“At least let me give you your gift,” she said with mock affection.  
His grip on his dagger tightened and he began to formulate spells and battle plans in his head. Angrboda picked up the blankets and the creature beneath them gave another stir. Suddenly the most unexpected sound came from the heap of blankets. Tiny, childlike sobs.

He looked at Angrboda and the blankets skeptically. Angrboda rolled her eyes. “It’s only a sickly little half-breed, you battle-hungry Aseir cur,” she spat. Loki took one step closer, but did not lower the dagger, fearing a ruse. As he peered into the bundle on Angrboda’s lap, he saw that it was, indeed, a baby. “Why?” was his only question.

“I’ve learned so much from you,” said Angrboda. Loki suspected she was referring to all the times he had given her magic lessons. “So how can you be such a blithering idiot?” she asked with a venomous tone. The color drained from Loki’s face as he realized the weight of her previous words. They had last been together ten moons ago, it was two moons short as far as Aseir or Jotun gestation, but it was entirely possible, and could account for the baby’s sickly appearance. Angrboda smiled at his horrified face. “Now you’ve got it,” she said, “Oohhh, what to tell Father now?”

“It’s a ruse,” choked Loki, “you’re trying to trick me into giving you something.” Even as he said the words, he searched for any signs of glamour on the baby or Angrboda. He found none. “Oh, no, even now I know you wouldn’t give me anything. I think you’d sooner bash this creature’s head in than give me what I want.”

She looked at the baby like it was some sort of disgusting creature that ought to be put out of its misery. “Why do you look at it so?” he asked. Her eyes snapped back to him. “Because half of it comes from you.” she said spitefully, “and because it’s half dead.” Loki raised his eyebrows questioningly. He didn’t know much about babies, but this one seemed to be quite alert, despite its sickly appearance.

“It was born with the legs of a corpse,” she answered, “they’ll not move at all. It didn’t even feel when I pricked them with a needle.” Loki said nothing, for once in his life at a loss for words. Angrboda continued, “When it was born, I thought of leaving it in the snow as is done with all the runts and sicklings. I’m glad I didn’t just then, because I had the most wonderful idea. I thought, ‘No, I’ll take the creature to its father, then he’ll have to show it to the king, and all will know of the young prince’s foolish betrayal to his prospective kingdom! Say goodbye to your crown, Odinson!’”

The baby had resumed its wailing, and his eyes flitted over to it.  
Angrboda laughed, low and sultry. “Thor doesn’t have any bastards, does he? I can’t imagine any future king would.” Her lips parted in a smile, revealing sharp Jotun fangs.

“Enough, witch,” he snapped. Angrboda stood, slowly though, as if in pain. As she stood up, Loki could see the pallor in her face. His eyes drifted downward and he saw that her abdomen was still distended. Clearly, she had wasted no time bringing him the child. Perhaps this could be to his advantage. “Angrboda, when was this child born?” he asked.

“Not but a day or so ago,” she replied, “now, I’ll leave you to your fatherly duties.” She smirked at him, but it faded when she saw his vicious smile. He gave a short, humorless chuckle. “You can’t leave,” he said, “not in your state, you’ll drain your lifeforce and kill yourself.”  
“I got here, didn’t I?”  
“You got here, yes, but at what cost? How much energy do you have to get yourself back? You must have expended quite a lot of it getting yourself in here, considering you didn’t use the Bifrost and Heimdall hasn’t spotted you, so there’s also a concealment spell, a good one, I might add. That’s not to mention the fact that you gave birth only yesterday, and no doubt lost a lot of blood and energy. I’d say if you tried to go back the way you came, you’d be dead before you even got back to Jotunheim.”

The witch said nothing, only glared at him.  
“Do you really hate me that much?” he asked. “Do you really harbor such loathing that you would be willing to kill yourself just to hinder my career?”  
She glared at him still. Loki decided to press further, for if she would be vengeful, so would he.  
“You would really abandon your own child to the man you despise most? Perhaps my father was right, perhaps you are monsters.”  
“You will find you and I are not so different,” she said bitterly.

He could see the anger rising in her eyes and he knew his plan was working. He needed only to distract her for a few more moments before the spell was complete. When it was, she would be bound in her place.  
“I know what you’re doing, and it won’t work, Odinson,” she said, “I’m countering your spell.”  
“Then you will only kill yourself faster,” he replied with a slight smirk.  
“If I die bringing your ruin, I have died well,” she said through clenched teeth as the portal opened up around her.

Loki swore as she disappeared into the portal. As a last result fueled by anger, he threw the dagger in after her as the portal closed. ‘I would very much like to wake up now,’ he thought woefully. He flinched as a sharp wail erupted from the blankets next to him. Loki turned his gaze to the child and sighed. “And what to do with you?” he asked as he sat down next to it.

The baby continued its wailing as he gingerly picked it up and set it on his lap. He supposed it was crying out of hunger, but at the moment, he could do nothing about it. Angrboda’s words echoed in his head. ‘Oohh, what to tell father now?’ What would he tell his parents? He could only hope Angrboda had been lying, and the poor, sick child was not his after all.

There was no way around it, though. He had to notify them of the security breach, and he had no idea what to do with the baby. He set the wailing infant aside and went to his mirror on the other side of the room. With the right incantation, he left his mother a message. “Mother, could you and Father meet me in my chambers at once?” he asked nervously. “It’s…urgent.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki gives his parents some bad news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To anyone wondering, Loki is about 19-20 in this by Earth standards.

Loki waited nervously for his parents’ arrival. In a desperate attempt to end the baby’s crying, he had picked it up and was now pacing with it in his arms. The crying had lessened for now, as it was busying itself by sucking on the collar of his shirt. However, after a few minutes of this, the infant soon realized it would get no good out of the shirt collar and resumed its crying.

Loki ceased his nervous pacing and sat down again. He knew it wanted food, but he had no milk in his house, and even if he did he had no idea how he would feed it. He supposed he could put it under a sleep spell for now, but he had never used one on anything so small, he could kill it. Loki shuddered as he thought of Angrboda’s words. “No, I think you’d sooner bash this creature’s head in than give me what I want.”

The thought sickened him because he knew there was a certain degree of disgusting merit to it. If he had ended the baby’s life, he would have never told his parents, and they would be none the wiser; he would still be a candidate for the crown. He hated himself for allowing the thought to cross his mind even for a moment. Loki turned his attention back to the child’s crying. “I know, I’m sorry,” he sighed as he adjusted its position.

He was careful not to touch the baby with his bare hands, as he knew Jotun skin could cause frostbite at the slightest touch unless spells were used, such as in Angrboda’s case. Loki studied the infant’s distraught face, searching for any signs of his likeness on its pale blue skin. At the moment, the only resemblance he saw was that it had his black hair. On closer inspection, it seemed to have inherited Angrboda’s nose. He noted its hollow-looking cheeks and overall thin appearance. Unlike Angrboda, he pitied the wailing child in front of him.

He hoped with all his heart that this child was not his. He wanted so much to believe that she had lied, and had only given this to him to make him miserable. ‘Say goodbye to your crown, Odinson,’ she had said, and she may have been right. As of late, Thor’s antics had grown more brash and childish. Loki was one for mischief, yes, but at least he knew how to hide it. ‘Up until recently,’ he thought with dismay. In wake of Thor’s un-kingly behavior, Loki had come to suspect his parents were beginning to consider him a viable option for the throne. ‘Thor doesn’t have any bastards, does he? I can’t imagine any future king would,’ Loki clenched his jaw at the thought of Angrboda’s poisoned words. He knew she was right, though. If his parents had ever considered naming him heir instead of Thor, they would likely drop it at the sight of his mistake. 

As he waited he began to fret and panic. There were other things he could have done to distance himself from the baby that would have left his parents in the dark. He could have transported himself to a nearby village and dropped it on a peasant family’s doorstep. He could have… He took a deep breath and stopped his whirlwind thoughts as he realized that Heimdall would have seen him. ‘What is done is done,’ he thought in an attempt to calm his nerves, ‘they are on their way and there is nothing you can do about it.’

As if on cue, the doors opened and in walked his parents. Loki set the baby aside and stood to meet them. “We came as soon as we could,” said Frigga, “we received a similar message from Heimdall and,” she stopped short at the sound of the baby. “Loki, what is that?” she asked incredulously. Loki bit his lip and led them to the couch.

“Oh, dear,” said Frigga, “it looks ill.” She took the baby in her arms and began to sway back and forth in an attempt to calm it. It had always amazed him how Frigga was willing to help anyone she met, especially children.  
“What is it doing in your house?” asked Odin.  
Loki hesitated to meet his father’s gaze. Telling Frigga of his mistakes were one thing, telling Odin just terrified him. Not that he had ever received overly severe punishments, he only hated the way his father looked at him afterwards. It made him feel as if he were a troublesome child again, only now his mistakes had real impact. Now instead of Odin and Frigga cleaning up his mess, he had to face the consequences himself.

He swallowed and braced himself. “Angrboda left it,” he said, “she broke in, I’m not exactly sure how, but she did, she was right here. She said she came back because she meant to ruin me.”  
“And how does the baby tie into ruining you?” asked Odin sternly.  
Loki tried not to visibly cringe as he prepared for what was to come. “She…she said I was the father,” he said shakily.

Loki tried to read his parents’ faces. As he expected, Frigga looked disappointed. Odin on the other hand, was completely stoic. “Well, does that statement hold any merit?” asked Odin.  
“It might,” replied Loki weakly.   
“Loki,” Frigga started.  
“I’m sorry,” he said, “I never meant for it to happen.”   
Frigga sighed and turned her eyes back on the baby. With a quick incantation, she was able to shift it into Aseir form. “I suppose we should go to Eir,” she said, “and perform a blood test.” Loki nodded and his eyes flitted back to Odin, who was as stone-faced as ever. 

“Where is Angrboda?” asked Odin as they made their way to the infirmary.  
“She is likely dead,” answered Loki, “judging by the spells she would have had to use to get in unnoticed by Heimdall, I’d say she had drained most of her lifeforce just by the first journey. She also stated that she gave birth to the child yesterday, so that would render her weaker than normal as well. Just before she left, I tried to bind her in her place, but she countered the spell. With all that wasted energy, I wouldn’t be surprised if she was dead before she made it back.”

Odin nodded and said nothing.   
“Did she give you any information regarding the baby?” asked Frigga, who had managed to calm the child a bit.  
“It was two moons early,” replied Loki, thankful that the conversation was keeping his nerves at bay. “She also said that it had the legs of a corpse, apparently they feel nothing.”

Frigga cast the child a sympathetic glance. “Did she tell you a name, the gender even?”  
Loki shook his head. “No, in fact she rather hated the child, seemingly due to its weakness and,” he hesitated, “and the fact that I’m supposedly the father.”  
“Poor darling,” she cooed, readjusting the newborn’s position, “this isn’t your fault.” 

“It needs to be fed,” she said as they approached the infirmary, “we do that before the test.”  
“Frigga, this is somewhat urgent,” said Odin.  
“And it can wait for a few moments,” she countered, “the child is hungry, and its wretched mother probably didn’t feed it when it was born. So, I think it would be best if it was finally given what it’s been crying for this whole time.”  
They came to the infirmary doors and Loki sensed his father would not press the matter any further. 

“Eir!” called Frigga as they entered the infirmary. The healer quickly walked out of her office to meet them. “Yes, Your Highness,” she said, looking rather frazzled. It was late, perhaps she had been sleeping. “I need some milk for this infant,” explained Frigga, “and afterwards a blood test must be performed.”  
Eir looked from Frigga to the baby, then to Loki. “I see,” she said curtly, turning to leave.   
“And Eir,” Odin called after her. The healer looked back. “Not a word of this to anyone else.”  
“Of course, Your Majesty,” she replied, quickly walking off.

Loki could hear his heart pounding in his ears. His mind once again began to race. What if it was his? What then? He didn’t think he could face the shame, the looks from his parents. Would he have to care for it? The sound of shoes on marble pulled him away from his thoughts. Eir had returned with a bottle of milk and two tiny vials.

She gave Frigga the bottle. “Or I can feed it, if you like, Your Ladyship,” she offered. Frigga shook her head.   
“No, that’s all right,” she replied, “I don’t mind.” With only a slight bit of coaxing, Frigga coerced the newborn into nursing. It was almost amusing to see it so content after it had cried from the moment he had met it. Loki stopped himself from cracking a smile. 

“If you could give me your arm, Your Highness,” said Eir. Loki’s eyes darted back to the healer and he reluctantly did as he was told. Eir pricked a vein on his wrist with a needle and he watched with fascination as she summoned the blood into the vial. When it was full, she capped the vial and pressed a gauze to his wrist. Loki removed the gauze and murmured a quick healing spell. Eir turned her attention to the baby, who was finishing off the last of the milk.

 

Frigga held the infant’s arm out and Eir pricked its wrist as well. The newborn’s earlier contentedness disappeared as a resounding scream echoed through the room. “There, now,” cooed Frigga, drawing the baby closer, “it’s all over now, you’re fine.”  
“If you’d like to bring it along, Your Majesty, I can examine it,” she offered. Frigga nodded and stood. “Stay here,” she ordered.  
“Yes, Mother,” replied Loki softly as the two women disappeared into another room. 

Loki tried his best to keep his nerves at bay. He knew his father would start lecturing him at any moment. He stopped his leg from bouncing up and down and took a deep breath. “Regardless as to whether this child is yours,” said Odin, “your mother and I are very disappointed in you.”  
Loki stared at the ground, heart in his throat. “I know, Father,” he said quietly.   
“We expect you to put reason behind your actions,” continued Odin, “and consider the consequences. That is what a king does.”

“Because that’s what Thor does,” Loki muttered sarcastically.  
“Thor hasn’t fathered any children, now has he!?” thundered Odin.  
Loki cringed. “No, Father, he hasn’t,” he answered.  
Odin sighed and shook his head. “I’ve been trying to work more with your brother, and get him ready for his position as heir, but in doing so, I believe I neglected your guidance. Even so, I never would have expected this to happen,” he gestured at their surroundings.   
“I’m sorry, Father,” said Loki, “but we still don’t know if it really is mine.” He tried to sound hopeful, but deep down, he knew it was no use.

“Hmph, judging by your face, I’d say you already know the answer,” retorted Odin.  
Again, Loki stared at the ground, feeling sick to his stomach. He heard a door opening on the other side of the room, accompanied by the sound of someone walking towards them. He raised his head to look at his mother, who held the now sleeping baby in her arms. Frigga’s face was blank as she approached him. He swallowed and looked at her questioningly. Frigga sighed. “Congratulations, Loki,” she said. His heart sank, he could feel the disappointment in her voice. “You are now father to a baby girl,” she gingerly handed him the newborn, who gave a tiny stir and went back to sleep. 

His breath caught in his throat as he held the child. He attempted to speak, but no words left his mouth. His father had been right, he had suspected the baby was his, but nothing could have prepared him for it. He had a daughter. The idea felt wrong, foreign, as if it was not his; yet here lay the proof, asleep in his arms. “I – ah -,” he struggled to speak. “What do I do?” he finally asked with a pleading look at his mother.


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hel is welcomed home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I'm not really happy with this chapter, the next ones will be better. I just wanted to post something before my hiatus. Hope it's not as bad as I think it is! :)

Loki gazed pathetically at his parents. Frigga returned the look with an expression of both pity and disappointment, while Odin only appeared disappointed. “I-I don’t know what to do,” said Loki weakly. Frigga furrowed her brow. “Well,” she said, “I believe the proper way to atone for your actions would be to raise the child yourself.” Loki’s eyes widened as he looked back at the sleeping girl. He didn’t know the first thing about children, especially girls.   
“Hold on, Frigga,” said Odin, “I’m assuming this would be kept secret, yes?” Frigga nodded. “Why, then would you want the possibility of word getting out about an illegitimate, half Jotun child running about the palace? The public would lose trust in us! If they knew we couldn’t properly raise our sons, how would they trust us to guide the kingdom?”

“There are more provoking things they could discover,” she said softly. Loki raised his eyebrows in surprise, but said nothing, knowing that it wasn’t his place to ask, especially now. Frigga cast a glance at him and stepped over. “This is a very disappointing turn of events Loki,” she said, “and it saddens me.”  
“I know, Mother. I’m sorry,” replied Loki, voice cracking.  
Frigga kissed his cheek. “But we still love you, we will no matter what. You must always remember that.” Loki nodded, fighting back tears. “I love you, too,” he said, in almost a whisper to stop himself from crying.

Frigga looked back to Odin. “I think in order for him to face this as a man, he must decide what will be done with the child himself,” she said. Odin nodded.   
“Yes, I suppose that would be the most logical course of action,” he said.  
Frigga continued. “Now, Loki,” Loki looked up to meet his mother’s eyes, “you and that witch haphazardly created this new life, and in my opinion, you should see your mistake through to the end.” She looked back at Odin. “Though that comes with its own set of problems. The next best thing you could do for this child would be to give it to a peasant couple, perhaps in the southern farmland areas away from the palace.”

Loki nodded and turned his eyes on the baby again, contemplating his options. “Another thing you must consider,” continued Frigga, “is her legs. We have the means to manage the paralysis here, if she were given away, her new family may not be able to find treatment.”  
“You’re guilt-tripping him, Frigga,” drawled Odin.  
“I am not,” retorted Frigga, “I’m simply providing him with information necessary to make a decision. If you’d like to offer anything, then go ahead.”

“I shall,” replied Odin, “Son, if you wish to keep her, you’d be acting on impulse and emotion. Not that I particularly fault you for it, I have made decisions in a similar manner before. However, you must consider not only her future, but her emotions as well. If you keep her, then yes, her legs will be healed, but there are other factors you must consider. She will grow up in a palace, raised by a prince, she will not understand why she must be hidden, she will not understand why she must be covered like a shameful deed. More importantly, at some point, you will have to explain to her why she has no birthright, why she never can, and never will be a princess. If you keep her, you can only hope she takes this well, and will not resent you for it.” Something about his father’s expression seemed so…sincere, melancholy even. Loki couldn’t understand why his father’s voice carried so much pain with his last words, or why his mother’s expression returned it.

Loki said nothing, and only nodded, contemplating the little girl in his arms. He harbored no real feelings for her, he didn’t even really want her. Every logical voice in his head told him to put as much distance between the two of them as possible, but there was something holding him back that he couldn’t place. A guilty conscience, perhaps? Or maybe it was spite, after all, Angrboda had already abandoned the child, and if he did the same he was no different.

There was also the matter of her legs. Loki couldn’t imagine being bound to a chair for one’s entire life. How angry she would be if she were to grow up and realize she could have had the treatment at her fingertips, if only her father had kept her.   
“If I keep her,” said Loki, “and she finds that she has no birthright, she will hate me. If I leave her, and she finds that she could have lived in the palace and received treatment for her ailment, she will also hate me. Either way, she will grow up angry and confused.”

“You much decide which path she will take,” said Frigga, “that is your punishment for creating her.”  
Loki stared at the sleeping newborn. His heart raced to think that the choice he made at that moment would decide the course of her entire life. ‘If that thought sickens you, perhaps it was best you were never heir,’ the thought seemed to taunt him. He angrily pushed it aside and continued thinking. Could he really take the guilt of knowing that somewhere out there, his own flesh and blood was bound to a chair? Could he really take the constant, gnawing thought at the back of his mind for the rest of his days. ‘You have a daughter out there somewhere,’ he knew he would think, ‘and you cast her aside like a useless pawn.’

Loki had never felt guilty about anything, nor had he ever faced a dilemma such as this. Either way, his own daughter might hate him, not that he cared, he didn’t love her. What did he feel toward her, though? If it wasn’t love, what was it? If he truly didn’t care, he would have already decided. He sighed. With every second he grew more tired, and it became harder to think. ‘So, what will it be?’ he thought. ‘Shall she hate you for abandoning her, or for creating her? Will you let her walk in a palace or sit in a farmhouse?’

“I know I will regret this,” he said slowly, “but I will keep her, for the sake of her treatment if nothing else.” Loki looked back at his parents. Odin nodded silently. To Loki’s relief, he didn’t seem overly displeased. Frigga gave him a tired smile. “Then we should get her home,” she said. 

At Frigga’s request, Eir gathered a collection of supplies from the infirmary’s storage. “Odin,” said Frigga, “go get some sleep, I’ll take it from here.”   
Odin nodded and turned to Loki. “Do not take this decision lightly,” he said, “you have promised to keep her, and you will, no matter how hard it becomes. Understand?”  
“Of course, Father,” answered Loki, and with that, Odin left.

“Come, let’s get her settled in,” said Frigga. Loki followed his mother through the secret tunnels that only the royal family used. As he took in the bare stone walls, he realized this would likely be the only way around the palace his daughter would ever know. They made a detour to his parents’ house so Frigga could gather more supplies. She ducked into the storage closet of the house and emerged a few moments later after some banging and clattering. 

The noise woke the baby up and she began to wail again. “I knew I would need this,” panted Frigga, holding up a small, wooden cradle. Loki gave her a rather panicked look. “How do I stop her from crying?” he asked. Frigga set the cradle down and took the infant and swayed back and forth. “This usually does the trick,” she said. Sure enough, the infant’s crying died down and her distress was replaced with tranquil curiosity as her eyes searched their surroundings.

“If you could pick that up,” said Frigga, nodding toward the cradle. Loki did as he was told and they continued down the secret passages. “Your father said it was silly to keep that, but I knew we’d need it someday,” she said, sounding rather pleased with herself. When they finally reached Loki’s house, Frigga busied herself preparing everything for the baby. She had Loki set the cradle in his bedroom. “They wake up several times in the night during the first few moons,” she informed him, “you’ll need to be close so you can attend to her.”

Loki swallowed and wondered what he had gotten himself into, but he’d made his decision, knowing fully that he would have sorely regretted either choice. Frigga went about showing him everything he would need for the night; how to prepare a bottle, how to change her. The tattered brown blanket that Angrboda had covered the babe with was discarded in favor of a green fleece. “This was made for you when you were born,” Frigga informed him, “I have a red one that I’m saving for Thor’s future children.”

“Well,” said Frigga contentedly, “I suppose now all she requires is a name. Have you thought of one?”  
For whatever reason, the thought had never crossed Loki’s mind. “No, I haven’t,” he replied absentmindedly as he studied the squirming infant on his bed.  
“Astrid?” offered Frigga, “Hilda, Gudrun, Audhumla, Frieda?”  
He wrinkled his nose and shook his head, he didn’t care for any of those. “How did you come up with my name?” he asked suddenly. 

Frigga smiled as the baby waved her tiny hand around and grasped her finger. “Oh, I found it in a book I was reading before you arrived. It wasn’t a very common name, and it suited my fancy, so I picked it.”  
Loki nodded and absentmindedly chewed his lip in thought. He thought of all the women he had read about. He cared for none of their names, until he came to the last one. He’d found her in a book Angrboda had given him. She was a powerful mage, ruthless in her conquests, with a name that matched her ferocity. Yes, it was a name befitting any daughter of his.

“Hel,” he said softly. The baby gave a little squirm and released Frigga’s finger. Obviously, the name in no way fit her at the moment, but he was hopeful someday it would.   
“Hel Lokisdottir?” asked Frigga, lifting the newborn into her arms.  
Loki nodded, a smile forming at the corner of his mouth. He rather liked the sound of it. “Yes,” he said, “I think it is a good strong name, is it not?”

Frigga paid no attention to his words. She was too busy cuddling Hel and bouncing her slightly in her arms. Clearly, she was already head over heels in love with her new grandchild. “Oh, I could just spend all day with you!” she said quietly. Loki smiled weakly. Even if he had ruined his chance at the crown, at least he was able to give his mother a nice little plaything.

“What’s wrong, Mother?” he asked as he saw her smile fade. She sighed. “It is late,” she said woefully, “I should go home, and she should be put to bed, but I don’t want to leave.”  
“She’ll still be here tomorrow, Mother,” Loki assured her. Frigga pursed her lips and gazed sadly at the little girl. She planted a swift kiss on Hel’s forehead. “Good night, sweet girl,” she said, drawing her closer, “Grandmother loves you.” Reluctantly, she gave her back to Loki.

“You seem to have grown attached very quickly,” observed Loki, a hint of amusement in his voice.   
“She was abandoned by her mother, born paralyzed, and will never receive the birthright she deserves. She deserves all the love in the Nine,” she answered. “Good night, Loki, and good night, Hel,” said Frigga, bending down slightly to meet Hel’s eyes with a smile. Hel returned with a sleepy smile. After an almost tearful goodbye, Frigga left her first grandchild for the night.

Loki was now alone with Hel again. For the first time in several hours, he realized just how hungry he was. He eyed the cradle and gently placed Hel inside. Her blue eyes seemed to stare him down. “I’m coming back, hold on,” he murmured. Loki rummaged through his kitchen in search of anything passable. He usually ate in the great hall, or had servants deliver his food, so the kitchen was usually empty. After scrounging around for several minutes, he was finally able to procure some bread and cheese, nothing more.

The second he bit down on the bread, he heard Hel sobbing in his bedroom. He sighed and his shoulders dropped a bit. Loki clamped the bread between his teeth and sleepily shuffled into his room. “What?” he asked, voice muffled by a mouthful of bread. “What do you want now?” Loki noticed that her crying had changed from the last two times. It did not carry the same urgency it had when she had been scared, nor was it long, drawn out and loud as it had been when she was hungry.

He set his pitiful dinner on the nightstand and picked Hel up to examine her. As soon as he did, the crying began to die down. He raised his eyebrows. “That was it?” he asked. “That’s all you wanted?” Loki sighed and stretched out on the bed, Hel resting on his chest. It was the first time that night he was able to relax and actually think about what had happened. He had lost any opportunity to win the crown, and he had damned his own child to a life confined in the palace. 

‘You have promised to keep her, and you will no matter how hard it becomes,’ Odin’s words echoed in his mind as he eyed Hel, who had finally drifted off to sleep. She was to be the center of his life for the next few centuries. Anything he had done before her would have to stop. He couldn’t bring home maiden after maiden as he had since his coming of age. He doubted Frigga would let him join Thor on many quests since he had a child to care for. Thor – what would Thor think of him? He would surely have to endure much teasing and bullying for this.

He looked down at Hel again. What would she think of him? Why did he even care? Would she forgive him for keeping her locked in the palace? How would she react when he told her she was half Frost Giant? He hadn’t considered her heritage. Would she hate herself for it? Again, why did he care so much? Would she hate him? Most likely. Loki’s thoughts flooded his mind and suddenly he began to silently weep. He had no idea why, he couldn’t even remember the last time he had cried, but now he couldn’t stop.

Hel gave a tiny stir and continued to sleep, blissfully unaware of the conflict unfolding around her. Loki took unexpected comfort in holding her, and continued to do so long after she had fallen asleep. He found it helped his anxiety if he focused only on Hel, not her future, or how she had affected his, but just Hel. He focused on her tuft of black hair, her peaceful face, the way her tiny hands curled up as she slept. It was not long until he too drifted into a light sleep.


End file.
